Moonlit Night
by MischievousRose
Summary: "Not everyone has the same privilege as you. You were born given the luxury to live the life that you chose, while I was born with the purpose to solely exist." Jelsa. Angst.


**First and foremost, I want to thank you for giving this story the time of your day. I'm not really sure if the story will suit your taste but I sincerely hope that you will enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this. This is my pioneer fic for this fandom, this is like my own personal experiment of some sort. XD I was thinking that if this will be well-received, I'll gamble on posting a multi-chaptered fic ^^ If not then... u_u I'll only post one-shots dedicated to people who are dear friends of mine.  
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**It doesn't really matter much, if I could make at least one person happy with my writing, then I would write for that one person. :" I'm also aiming to become a better writer so... I'll count on you to help me :D**

**To windstruck07, thank you very much for encouraging me to explore my talent and muster up the courage to share my stories in this fansite again. It's been years since I last wrote here.**

**To peanutbutterandgarlicgirl, thank you so much for sharing your sentiments about this and for the insane moments where we gush about our OTP, crack silly jokes and talk about our nearly nonexistent love lives. XD**

**To Secretly A Duck, thank you for proofreading this :* and I promise I'll hold onto my end of the bargain. *wink* You're such a sweet girl  
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**Just a reminder, (I know, I'm sorry, I'm rambling D:) since you've opened this tab, there's no backing out. Don't be discouraged by the first scene ^_^ There's more to the story than just _that_. **

**Disclaimer: All rights of the characters (except my OCs) belong Disney and Dreamworks respectively. If I owned Jelsa, there would've been a movie about them alread. -w-**

**Now without further ado...**

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><p><em><strong>Moonlit Night<strong>_

"_Not everyone has the same privilege as you._

_You were born given the luxury to live the life that you chose,_

_While I was born with the purpose to solely exist."_

* * *

><p>Jack towered over her frail form as she pressed her back against the broad trunk of the tree. She was trembling, that much was obvious due to the way her pale hands quivered against her bosom, but if it was because of fear or exhaustion, he couldn't quite tell. Her crystal blue eyes looked up at him, surprisingly, not with fear but with a firm look of resignation—as though she had long since accepted the fact that the things that were yet to happen were inevitable and predestined. His stomach lurched with uncomfortable guilt. Her eyes… they <em>weren't<em> supposed to look like that. They were supposed to _sparkle_ with that small glint of mischief or hold this certain degree of mysticism but right now, despite the brilliant way they captured and reflected the light of the moon, it looked no prettier than a dull sapphire—they were _hollow_. Her face was emotionless and covered with a thin sheen of sweat and her lips were pursed so harshly together, he feared she'd draw blood.

A lone tear trickled silently down the corner of her left eye. _Probably the only one she'd ever shed tonight._ And she heaved, the valleys of her chest going up and down rhythmically as she breathed in more air to relax herself.

Her feet were bare and sore and covered with ugly blisters. Her muscles ached like burning fire that was slowly devouring her flesh and she…she was tired, _tired_ from all the drama… tired from all _this_… tired of living like a marionette and tired of trying _so _hard to live.

She's _tired_.

And if this situation was her dear sweet escape from everything—so be it.

She just doesn't care anymore.

But of course, he didn't know that. He didn't know the things that were running in her thoughts. He didn't know her soft plea for help nor did he know that desperation that is slowly eating her entire being.

_He didn't know._

And he will never know because tonight… _he will kill her_.

What he knew, however, is that killing is wrong and if this plan fails, he can say goodbye to his head and say hello to the gallows.

But no one was going to tell on him anyway. They were alone and isolated deep into the glade of the forest with no witnesses other than the stars of the sky. The townspeople were fast asleep and the guards on patrol had been lured out to chase the others.

He can do it. He can kill her.

_It was his mission._

_ It was something he must do._

A soft and gentle breeze blew by and caressed his skin through his tattered peasant clothes, making him shiver as it took away a small part of his resolve.

_No, Jack._ He scolded himself as he gripped the hilt of his sword firmly; his calloused palms felt the intricate swirls that were carefully carved into the gold-coated steel as he swallowed the invisible lump that was gradually forming in his throat. He can do this. He _will_ do this. _Do it for your family._ He reminded himself as his eyes closed for a split second.

But in order to succeed, he must harden his otherwise gentle heart.

It was easier said than done. But he tried anyway.

Cautiously, he lifted the sword above her and watched, with slight fascination, as it reflected the light of the moon. It gleamed, almost mockingly, like an ethereal jewel as it cut through the air. He prepared his stance as he eyed her with a predatory gaze, hard chestnut brown orbs locked against crystal-colored ones, taking slow but decisive steps towards her. The grass underneath his wooden boots crunched in agony with his every step yet he proceeded.

He was torn—torn between letting her escape and fulfilling his duty.

And she saw that.

She saw the conflict in his eyes, the way his mind and soul rioted to make a decision and the way his pure heart persevered to shine through despite his efforts in forcibly tainting them. _She saw all of them_.

And she knew that the days that passed spent in camaraderie with him were real and, somehow, the thought made her smile the tiniest of smiles.

It amplified her resignation.

Her life was his.

She held his gaze with a somewhat determined stare, refusing to break eye contact, not even when he lowered his sword and allowed the blade to lightly prick the pale skin of the underside of her jaw. He expected her to flinch, to fight back and defend herself, hoping to find an excuse to free her and tell his master that he failed, but she stayed still and unmoving.

And her eyes, why must they stare at him like _that_? It was scary how they seem to see right _through_ him and know his inner thoughts.

_Stop._

Clenching his jaw, he glided the edge of his sword deeper against her skin, intentionally drawing out blood to provoke her. His heart stung with guilt and remorse as he watched the thick watery substance trickle from her wound to follow the call of gravity. It stood out brilliantly against her skin—like a vibrant yet dark-hued red ink against a smooth yet snowy landscape. He was _testing_ her and _pushing_ her to her limits just to see if she'll snap and fight for her life—no, that wasn't it. He _wanted_ her to snap, to fight back and to cunningly escape from this—from _him._

He wanted her safe.

But he couldn't.

Not that it mattered. He could see by the way she closed her eyes as if to _marvel_ in her pain and by the way she loosened her tensed muscles as if to _embrace _her cruel fate that she didn't mind dying. As a matter of fact, she seemed to _savor_ how death would taste.

He briefly closed his eyes as his grip tightened, the nails of his fingers sunk forcefully against the flesh of his palms, indenting crescent moons against his skin, and his knuckles turned white as his sword quivered. _Then he opened his eyes _

Gulping down any ounce of conscience left, he asked "Any last words?" with his deep baritone voice, hesitant yet determined, cold yet warm, sounding like a sweet lullaby amidst the lugubrious songs of the night.

She smiled, a faint, barely-even-there smile, "Make it quick." She replied as she bowed down her head in complete submission, her hand that were once grasping her chest now folded neatly on her lap.

She was ready.

But is he?

Pursing his lips, he swallowed down whatever emotion it was that was trying to hinder him from what he was going to do as he pulled his sword, twirling it once in the air and, with a clink and one swift movement, slammed it back to his target.

And no one…

_No one but the moon saw what he did._

* * *

><p><em>The first time that Jack saw her was when he was seven years old.<em>

_It was a rather fine afternoon, not too hot yet not too cold, with the sun shining bright and proud among the clouds which drifted along in vast arrays against the warm, pristine sky. The sun's brilliant rays wrapped the village in cheerful light, casting animated shadows on the ground as the gentle breeze drifted by. The market was bustling with activities that day, he remembered, and the town was filled with bright and cheerful colors because it was a festival of some sort, something about welcoming spring and offering a prayer for a more fertile land. As a matter of fact, it wasn't only the marketplace that was so full of joy but nearly the entire kingdom._

_ He remembered streamers and decorative flowers everywhere and of how a burst of colors would assault his eyes wherever he looked._

_ And for the young Jack, who at that time was mourning the death of his kind and honest father, thought that everyone was mocking him. From the cheerful sky to the colorful town and down to the smiling villagers—_how could they smile so much when someone out there was suffering? _He moped._

_He was sitting on the sidewalk that day, his knees pressed tightly against his chest as his face pressed desperately in between the crevice of his knees. His back hunched forward as his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. He knew he shouldn't cry then and he also knew that he should become the pillar of support for both his mother and baby sister, who were mourning just like him, but he couldn't help it. He was human too and he was capable of feeling. That's why he resorted to running away from home, in the guise of looking for something to eat, so that he can cry freely without his family seeing him._

_Thinking back, he must've looked pitiful being dressed in rags and crying his eyes out on the streets._

_That must've been the reason why she ordered the carriage to stop._

_But he didn't know that back then._

_He knew that a shadow loomed over him but he paid it no heed. He didn't care and he most certainly was not expecting anything except being kicked out by some noble who'll just exclaim that a rat was blocking his way—that's what peasants were for them anyway. He braced himself for the impact as he aggressively bit his lower lip to keep his sobs from materializing into sound._

_He waited._

_And waited._

_But there was no impact nor was there an utterance of disgust or horror. There was only a calming presence and a sweet glorious scent that the wind carried as it blew by—a scent so fine and alluring and so akin with the delicious scent of minty vanilla and sweet floral undertones that he couldn't help but relax and look up._

_How could he not when the scent itself bore a certain kind of comfort and warmth?_

_And so when their gazes met, he froze, though his despondent heart did slowly melt, momentarily forgetting his sadness that was lurking at bay and quickly wiped the awkward traces of tears that were smudged all over his well-defined cheeks. He saw her kind and gentle smile and his lips perked up to form one of his own, giving out a toothy grin despite the fact that he lacked a tooth, just to keep the pretense of being strong and hold onto his last strand of dignity—to live up to society's standards of his gender._

_Strongmen don't cry—and as of that day though, still young and at the start of his pubescent years, he became a man._

_Because today marks the day where he must grow up and help his family. He needed to shoulder the responsibilities of his father soon._

_But the world was going against him. He slumped, his grin wavering down into a frown._

"_What's wrong?" She asked with a voice that was both soft and caring. Her words were a bit mumbled and he knew by then that she was younger than him, by 2-3 years at most, though it was strange how she was exuding this mature feel—like she had already seen the world at the peak of its cruelty and doesn't want anyone to suffer under that same wrath. _

_He kept silent as he pushed himself to smile again, wordlessly telling her to leave him alone in his solitude._

_But she bought none of it as she gathered his hand in hers. She wasn't even bothered by the soot that gathered in his nails nor was she bothered by the thin coat of dirt that clung to his skin as she tucked her own personal laced handkerchief in his palms before curling them into fists. He also knew that he probably reeked with unpleasant smell, but if she was bothered by it or not, he couldn't tell. She didn't seem to show any sign of distaste, instead, she opened her mouth to speak, "You shouldn't hide your pain." She said, matter-of-factly, "My momma says that holding it back only weakens you more." She continued, her words were wise; he gave her credit for that, only if it weren't mumbled. He remembered having a hard time making out what she was saying. Still, he kept silent and only blinked, unsure of what to do with the soft lump of cloth in his hand._

"_What's wrong?" She tried again, now more tentative and less aggressive than the last one. She was coaxing him to speak up—and she's doing it right, because he had never been so tempted to spill his thoughts than he did back then._

_Silence._

_And he started to fidget uncomfortably under her stare until he finally gave up and sighed._

_There's nothing wrong in sharing, right? It's not like they'll see each other again and she already wasted her precious time waiting for him to speak up, he might as well not make it futile. "My father died and my mother is sick." He muttered as he felt his eyes sting with fresh tears, his eyesight blurred and he quickly wiped it clean with her handkerchief, realizing his mistake, he quickly put it away, "No one's going to support us now and I have to go look for work." Tears were freely falling now and he used the hem of his poor excuse of a rag for a shirt to wipe them away. He heaved and his shoulders quivered with the new weight of responsibility. His heart clenched as his mind played around with questions that particularly leered around the unfair 'whys' before swiftly replacing it with 'what to dos'. He felt her shift, the tips of her elaborate skirt that were once hanging around her ankles touched the dirty ground as she sat, ballooning around her as she nodded encouragingly, waiting for him to continue._

"_I tried looking for a job but no one would hire me." He continued, "They said that I was too young and might mess up more than I can help." More tears flowed and he cupped his face with his hands. What would he do? His mother was sick, their money was gone because of the payments for the funeral and the medicine, and his baby sister was back at home with a starving stomach, eagerly waiting for him to come back with a packet of bread or a porridge or some of those wild berries that grew in the dark murky forest. "I don't know what to do." He looked at her, his chestnut pool swirling with sadness and holding a problematic gaze not befitting of a child's._

_She offered him a soft smile as her hand unclasped one of the many bracelets that dangled around her wrist. "Here." She said as she wound it around his. The bracelet was a metallic swirl of pure gold encrusted with glittering gems and diamonds that had more worth than his life; needless to say, it was the bracelet of the simplest design compared to the ones left on her wrists. "It's a lucky charm." She reassured him once he saw his frightened look. He was a peasant after all and she's a young lady of noble descent. Receiving such expensive gift was as frightening as the thought of getting imprisoned. He can be accused of stealing, if worse comes to worst, because receiving a material as precious and pricey as this just didn't make any sense. "Please don't worry. This is a lucky charm. It will bring you many good things." Her words were smooth and soothing like drinking honey while suffering from sore throat. Her eyes were promising as well and they shone with clarity as both wisdom and knowledge danced in her irises. "If you can't find a job and will need the money badly, sell this."_

"_I can't accept this." He rejected with a worried frown on his face as he attempted to remove the metal from his wrist, "It's yours."_

"_Don't worry. I have lots of bracelets in my dresser. Giving away one won't hurt."_

_He attempted to protest, but apparently, she can be stubbornly firm with her choices and was adamant about him keeping it. She left with a courtesy, a gesture he shouldn't be receiving under any circumstances, before hopping back on the stepping stool with the help of the henchman, who blatantly stared at her with a disapproving frown, not really pleased with the fact that a noble was interacting with a commoner, much less a peasant, without a medium of some sort._

_She ignored the look the henchman gave her and stubbornly proceeded on giving him one last smile before the carriage door was closed and the horses took off._

_For the first time since his father's death… he felt hope._

_Two weeks later, he was able to find a job, an errand boy of some tavern, and found no need to sell the bracelet._

_He still kept her handkerchief too._

_And he found out later that day, when her carriage was no longer in sight, that her name was Elsa. It was embroidered neatly on the lacy cloth in sparkly silver thread._

_And it was a name he'll always remember._

* * *

><p><em>The second time he met her was when he was thirteen years of age. <em>

_He walked__idly by the busy marketplace as he thought of things to buy to surprise both his mother and his sister, and would peek every now and then at the overpriced goods that were laid out in every stall he passed that might, perhaps, strike his folly. He had just gotten his pay from the stable master who employed him as a groomsman of some Lord Vassal's stable, so to speak, he was in a rather good mood, especially noting the fact that he was given a raise and some extra bonus for being so efficient at work. He might soon get promoted as his employer's assistant too._

_In that case, maybe he could buy some of those inexpensive sweets they could rarely afford on usual days to celebrate. Chocolate, was it? He's sure his sister would love it! He chuckled fondly to himself as he continued forward._

_He was walking at a much slower pace now when something gleamed from the corner of his eye that made him stop his tracks. Curious as to what it was, he peered in closely and saw, much to his amusement, a crystal pendant made from glass that was molded into the shape of a snowflake. It was small and thin, about the size of the biggest coin or a golden medallion, and was finely detailed that he couldn't help but wonder if it would suit his sister. The pendant hung loosely from a thin blue satin ribbon, a shade of blue that is sure to suit his sister's skin, whose ends were tied to form a small tiny bow._

_He originally thought he should just buy his sister some hair trinket, she had been whining about how her hair looked too ordinary and ugly these past few days, but it was pretty enough. He also knew how his sister didn't have any decent accessory (she had tried persuading him to let her borrow his lucky charm but he outright refused and said that all his luck had been stored there) and opted to improvise by using an old bow and wrapping it around her small thin wrist with the ribbon hanging under her pulse to look more feminine._

_A tugging feeling in his gut, however, told him that he only wanted to buy that because he liked winter and it represented the season fairly well, but, ah, whatever, it's perfect._

_His hand swooped down to get the material when a much smaller hand beat him to it and took it away from his grasp. His eye twitched with annoyance as he gathered his will to stop his jaw from slacking loose. _How rude. He saw it first_. He narrowed his eyes into slits as he turned his head to confront the person, only to see a hooded girl still examining the material in her hands. Basing from her form and height, she couldn't be older than him and she seemed to come from a very prominent family because of her gem-studded dress._

_Didn't she know how dangerous it is for her to wander around in a place like this?_

_He cleared his throat, much louder than necessary, "Excuse me miss." He called, lowering his voice to sound more intimidating; however, it was a futile effort since he still hadn't hit the last stages of adolescence, therefore, his voice still sounded pretty much like that of a boy's. It successfully gathered her attention though, making her crystal blue eyes look up at him as her nose crinkled from confusion. "I'm buying that for my sister." He explained, gesturing towards the thing in her hand._

_Her eyes rounded even more as she dumbly raised the necklace with one hand while the other one pointed at the glittering glass. Then she raised both her brows in question as though she's asking for a confirmation that he was indeed talking to her. Somehow, he had this nagging feeling that she got him where she wanted him to be by the way her eyes sparkled with an unidentifiable underlying meaning and the way the right side of her lips quivered ever so discretely as if preventing a smile from forming. He ignored that, however, and nodded in affirmation, wanting nothing more than for her to hand it back to him._

_Her slender hands moved and he stood anxiously, relief washed over him, frankly expecting her to give it to him._

_But he was proven wrong._

_Because instead of handing it to him, she fished a small coin pouch, pulled out a gold coin, gave it the vendor without much of a word and left. She didn't even bother to get her change. However, she was coquettish enough to shoot him a triumphant smirk before she walked out from the scene, ignoring a flabbergasted Jack and leaving him there with an annoyed expression. What happened to demure ladies?_

_Realizing that he had no way around it, he sighed and turned to the merchant, "Mister, do you have any more like the one the young lady bought?" He inquired, hoping there's another one out there._

_The merchant shook his head, "I'm afraid not my boy." He gave him a bright smile as though it would make up for the lack of stock, shamelessly showing his yellowing teeth against his darkened lips and graying beard, "That's the only one there is!" He exclaimed, waving his chubby brown hands in the air in an attempt to look welcoming._

_He pursed his lips, mentally contemplating to himself as he pulled a doubtful expression, not really wanting to buy anything of his merchandise except for that one necklace. He nonchalantly peered more on his goods and wrinkled his nose in distaste. Jack knows he could just buy another one but there was something about that necklace that made him want to buy that and only that—add the fact that he's too lazy to browse anymore._

_Upon seeing that expression, the merchant went into a mild panic, he can't lose any costumer, especially if his sales had been bad these past few weeks. There are debts to pay too and he didn't want to become some measly servant in a pompous Lord's manor. "__The pendants are unique my boy," He added, hoping to get his attention by informing him how special his goods were (and potentially draw in more costumers), "The artisan I bought it from makes his products special by making only one of each kind."_

_Jack nodded thoughtlessly, his mind adrift, and then walked away, not minding how the merchant's face fell or how he kept calling him, trying to sell him things he had no interest in._

_He was aimlessly trudging down a familiar path now, a narrow pathway paved with orange and red brick stones that were carefully indented on the streets leading to the village town square, hoping to find that girl and strike some sort of a deal. Although he doubted it'll be easy. His eyes scanned the crowd in hopes to see a familiar hooded figure roaming about_ _but stopped shortly after he felt a small finger poke his back._ _He briefly turned and found, to his surprise, the very person he was looking for. She was still wearing her hood, as if doing so would make her incognito and less visible but the sparkles that shone in her dress were something only a blind person could miss._

_ Frankly, he was surprised how she hadn't been ambushed by robbers._

_ Not that he was hoping for that. He was annoyed at her, sure, but he wasn't heartless. As a matter of fact, he was even worried about leaving her alone, wandering in the streets. _

_She dangled the necklace in front of him, a coy smile playing on her lips, "Can I make a deal?" She asked, her eyes twinkling with unsaid excitement_ _and plea—one that thirsted for adventure but also one that was desperate for help._

_He shrugged, not really seeing any harm in it as he eyed her with uncertainty._ _He was hoping for that anyway, it's just suspicious how she approached him first. The day is going too well for his liking and he feared that there might be a catch. Still, he decided to give her the benefit of doubt. It's not like the rich would con the poor, would they?_

_She bit her lower lip, a sheepish expression now gracing her otherwise gorgeous face as she pulled her hand away and stuffed the necklace in one of the folds of her skirt. It was weird, he blinked, he thought a thin coat of frost covered the cloth that came in contact with her skin but it quickly thawed out leaving only a patch of damp spot, "I'm kind of lost." She said in a soft voice as a shy blush, both pale and pink, adorned her shadowed cheeks. "And I want you to help me." She quickly added after clearing her throat and averting her eyes._

_He quickly got rid of his thoughts as he smiled a cocky smile, finding it hard to conceal his amusement. He must've been imagining things; he reasoned with himself, there's no way that could've been frost. It was still in the middle of autumn for goodness sake, "I don't mind." He replied, thinking that it's a good deal. _So she was lost_. His smile turned smug. He wanted to snicker, finding her situation quite funny, but he didn't want to be rude._

_Unfortunately for him, the way his lips twitched didn't go unnoticed by the other person and so she opened her mouth to scold him or give him some sort of a sassy remark to save a bit of her pride from this small humiliation. _

_She didn't._

_She opted instead to huff, swallowing down her annoyance so that she wouldn't risk losing a possible help. Biting the insides of her lips, she continued, shrugging her discomfort by squaring her shoulders and held her chin high, "In exchange, I'll give you the necklace." before she held out a hand to seal the deal._

_And he agreed, interlacing their hands together_,_ his smile still cocky as ever in contrast to her relieved one. But it was strange how her palm was icy cold. He was about to question her if she was sick but she quickly retracted her hand before wiping it on her skirt. He wanted to snort, thinking that maybe she was disgusted to have made contact with a commoner despite the fact that she was the one who initiated it but the worried look on her face stated otherwise and he cocked his head in confusion._

_She seemed to know his unvoiced question and gave him a smile—a smile that promised no answer and a subtle warning about not pushing it._

_He didn't, although he was curious._

_And thinking back, he could vaguely remember how his heart was beating erratically back then and how he briefly wondered if her heart had beat the same fast way as his._

* * *

><p><em>The third time he saw her, he was 19 and she…she was crying.<em>

_ It was nighttime then and the moon was high up, shining in all its pearly radiance as the stars scattered across the skies looking very much like glitters against black velvet cloth. They were aplenty tonight and even though the road lacked torches to light the way, the moonlight proved itself to be more than enough. _

_ He was humming, obviously in high spirits because he had outdone himself in sword fighting, archery and stealth training. He was proud to have excelled in something only the nobles were privileged enough to take but he also found it weird how out of all the servants, Lord Bastion was providing him all those benefits. It was even more disturbing how it almost seemed that he was paid to learn—to learn proper etiquette, swordsmanship, archery and whatnot. Those were the lessons only the nobles could acquire and there he was, having all those for free. Honestly, he was disturbed how such a master employed him. Lord Bastion wasn't known for his kindness, he was renowned for ruling with an iron fist and for being a cunning tyrant who managed the stronghold of the kingdom. But as he stayed longer, he realized that the old man's random bouts of greediness can be tolerable—or maybe that's just him. The other servants did tell him that he was favored and that maybe the old Lord would pass him his riches and make him his heir._

_ Jack laughed. He knew it was too good to be true. He wouldn't even dream of it._

_ Besides, he never treated that old man as a father-figure, even though Lord Bastion does refer to him as 'my son' whenever they converse. It was creepy, per say, but this job had the best pay, so who was he to turn it down?_

_ Strange._

_ He halted his steps as he looked around, taking in the scenery of the torch lit path. He was sure he heard something while in the midst of his thoughts—a hum of some sort…a distant lullaby, but no one seemed to be around so he wasn't quite sure. His mind could have been playing tricks on him for all he knew. It was deep into the night after all and no one was expected to loiter around especially since everyone knew that nighttime was the devil's feast. None would dare venture out after the colorful skies turned indigo and even if they do, they would bring with them torches and crucifixes to ward off evil. He nearly snorted, people and their strange beliefs. Nighttime was just nighttime just like how daylight was just daylight. He was sure they were just scared of the dark or the things that could happen beyond their vision. Then again, he suppose it were true, although he personally didn't believe in people with horns or tails and hind legs of a goat for a pair of feet, evil was rampant during the night._

_ Once he decided that he was just hearing things, he continued to move forward, determined to deliver the wicker basket to the manor's chef who told him to get it from the butcher house near the town square._

_But he heard it again, clearer this time and with much more raw emotion than the last that he couldn't help but just…stop and listen._

_ It was strange; really, it was no more than a hum, a haunting lonely hum, soothing yet heartbreaking, lonely and dragging. It was nothing more than a bunch of sound coming from passing air through pressed lips—but it was alluring and addicting to the ears._

_ Curious as to where it came from, he followed the source of the music only to see himself standing by the entrance of the King's public garden. He squinted to see beyond what his sight could afford, looking for any silhouette that could've been lurking about—but there was none and the hum he heard before had now turned into silence, paving way for the noises of the night to run amok. He paused, unsure of what to do, until he heard a soft set of sobs muffled by the towering hedges by his right. He carefully stepped into the maze, mentally debating if he was to proceed as he took note of the fact that he wasn't familiar with the place._

_ But then he shrugged. He was Jack; adventure was one thing he was good at and besides, there just seemed to be some sort of a magnetic pull that made him have this desire to comfort that person. He knew how it felt to be alone and lonely once and it was a depressing situation, that person must've felt the same since she (he could tell by the voice) chose to weep at night and in an isolated place nonetheless. _

_Following the voice was a struggle, he thought to himself, he bumped into dead ends a few times or so but the frustration of possibly getting lost was nothing compared to the bewilderment he felt when the scene before him made itself known._

_ The center of the maze was covered in frost, glittering like cold crystals under the luminescent light of the moon, and the craziest thing of all? _

_It was summer. _

_He moved forward, careful not to make a scene as the frost thickened into something like snow as he looked for the source of the disturbance and nearly gasped at what he saw. She was there, sitting on the ledge of a frozen fountain, her face gathered into her palms, muffling her sobs even more. She was basking in the moonlight, unaware how Diana's face seemed to shine a spotlight on her, making her hair glow a celestial white as a thin sheen of mist curled around her feet, crawling gently to cover the entire ground with fog. Oh wow. She looked so angelic and the place looked… sublime._

_Or maybe that was just his mind playing a mirage—but she's there of course, flesh and all, just make away with all the crazy shenanigans he seemed to be seeing._

_The snow was real as ever though._

_He took another step forward._

_THUMP!_

_And then came one of the most embarrassing moments of his life._

_He slipped on ice, face flat on the ground and his bottom raised up, bringing the wicker basket down with him. He could feel the skin on his cheeks turn numb but he didn't care for any of that. Thank goodness the contents didn't spill or else he'd receive a hefty amount of scolding._

_Cool move Jackson Overland…very suave. He could've chosen to sweep the damsel in distress off her feet but he chose to sweep himself off the ground instead. Smooth. Seriously smooth._

_When he raised himself up and stared ahead, he saw her petrified look—her eyes were wide open with shock and fear, her hands trembled and her lips quivered. Her rosy cheeks were wet, obviously stained with fresh tears and her face was flushed. She was scared, but why? _

_She attempted to flee, raising her hood up over her head, unintentionally covering it with frost, but then froze when she realized that in order to get out, she had to pass through him first who was blocking both the entrance and the exit._

_Realizing his advantage, he quickly stood up on his feet, nearly slipping again at the haste of his movements but was quick to regain his balance, "Hey." He called out gently __with__ arms wide open to show that he was harmless as he sported a lopsided smile. "It's okay. I won't hurt you." He said as he tentatively moved towards her._

_She only stared at him, he knew even though he couldn't see the entirety of her face, just the shape of her nose down to shadows of her neck, but he could feel the weight of her stare boring through his head._

_How awkward. Did he sound like a maniac just now?_

_He chuckled sheepishly, and although he couldn't see, it earned him one perfectly arched eyebrow. He was near her now and he opted to sit on the fountain while she was still standing, her face angled warily towards him. She maximized their distance by a couple of meters away, still uncomfortable with the prospect of somebody seeing her cry, not to mention, he saw the mess she had made by freezing nearly the entire vicinity over. If her secret was out, she would be trialed for witchcraft and she knew that not even her dear father could save her from that. She looked away. _

_Maybe it's not yet too late to escape. The idea had never been so tempting._

"_Did you do… ", He paused as he waited for her to look at him and when she did, he took that as a sign to continue, "…all…this?" He gestured to the area with a wave of his hands, a hesitant look plastered on his face._

_He saw her flinch but she didn't answer him. Instead, she only stood silently._

_But that gesture was enough to enlighten him._

"_Hey," He called out again, his voice, smooth and genuine, deep yet comforting, "You don't have to be afraid. I won't judge." He chuckled sheepishly as his hand scratched the back of his neck in a rather awkward manner, "You were crying, is something the matter?" He asked, his deep chestnut brown orbs looked like amber against the light and he heard her drew a shaky breath._

_She looked away, "It's…" She stared down at him, her crystal blue eyes darkened like midnight under her hood but they looked…broken as if someone tore her soul and made her give up hope for all of humanity, "It's none of your business." Her words were delivered sharp and cold, yet they held this certain amount of sadness in them. Her eyes brimmed with tears once again and he would never have noticed if it didn't travel down her cheeks and dropped clumsily onto the surface of the frost-covered fountain. _

"_But you're crying. I know how it feels to be sad." He said soothingly before mumbling, "I've been there before" incomprehensibly as he briefly looked southeastward. _

_She stared at him with scrutiny, eyes looking stern yet frail, until she let out a burdened sigh and dropped herself, albeit gracefully, on the ledge of the fountain to sit. "You don't understand." Her voice cracked as she looked down and gathered both of her hands neatly on her skirt. "It's a problem for me and me only."_

"_I don't have to understand." _

_She whipped her head at him looking at him with a dumbstruck expression; did he think this was a joke? She nearly seethed her thoughts out loud. If she wasn't taught how to keep her mouth shut and control her words, she most certainly would have. She drew another deep breath to calm herself._

"_I mean," He stated, looking at her carefully as though saying the wrong word would send him to the gallows—which probably would happen if he only knew who she was, "I can be a listening ear. Whatever your problem is may be out of my league so an advice is out of the option." He explained, hoping he sounded reasonable enough._

_She seemed to accept his excuse because she subtly nodded her head and leaned back, fidgeting awkwardly with her fingers as she stared melancholically at the moon. Leaning back made her hood fall sequentially showing her face._

_Jack fought to stop his eyes from widening as soon as he recognized her. It was a very long time ago but he knew her as the girl from the marketplace—the one that purposely bought the necklace he was vying. She confessed to him that she was desperate for help and thought he was decent enough to help her find her way that's why she committed a rather unladylike act. They got acquainted and bonded for a bit but he never saw her after that—at least, until tonight happened. Come to think of it, even though he helped her find her way, he never knew where she lived, thus any form of communication was impossible._

_It's interesting how they kept running into each other._

_He mentally chuckled, which was quite hard since he had to keep on an empathetic expression. His lips twitched in an awkward manner but she didn't seem to notice, much to his relief._

"_It's hard." She opened up; it was obvious how she was saying that with a heavy heart due to the heavy tone of her voice._

_He hummed a response and it vibrated against his throat. "What exactly is hard?" He looked at her quizzically, _

"_Living my life." She sighed as she shamefully looked down and idly traced the flowery embroideries on one of the folds of her skirt. She knew it was wrong to feel that way. She practically had everything anyone below her status would vie for, the food, the riches, the comfortable life… but just like how her wealth and status had its perks— it had its cons too, "It's suffocating."_

_He only stared at her with empathy as he attempted to comfort her with his smile. He didn't judge her, which was strange, she thought that he was like the others—dismissing her troubles like it were just some sort of a petty whine. This in truth really was just one of her petty whines. Nonetheless, he chose to understand her. He was waiting for her to continue since he couldn't say anything—this topic was certainly out of his league. He wasn't born a noble, he was born a peasant and as much as he heard tattletales talk about the easy life of the nobilities, he couldn't be certain which one was true or false. _

"_And to top it off, I have this…" She continued with a frown and with a slight wrinkle on her nose as she raised her hands up in mid-air, a few inches below her chin, and willed snow to appear and hover like a glowing sphere on her palms as frost swirled around like serpentine mists._

"_But it's…" He peeked closer, unconsciously going past her comfort zone as she leaned slightly away. Awe was displayed in his irises as he watched her magic. He looked like a child and she thought it was cute—not that she would ever say that out loud. They're strangers, that's just plain awkward. "It's beautiful! How can you look at it with so much distaste?" He asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. He hopped off the fountain with so much energy, she yelped, immediately discarding the magic as she pressed her palms against the marble stone. However, he continued blabbering excitedly, "Think of all the fun things you can do!" He announced, briefly throwing his hands up in the air. "You can do plenty of snowball fights or pranks!"_

_She giggled behind her hand, as it was proper for a lady of high status to cover her gums, with amusement. He kind of reminded her of her sister, Anna, who was probably sleeping back at home. She also noted the childish sparkle in his eyes as he continued to speak about the fun things she could do with her magic._

"_Can you make structures with ice?" He asked eagerly as he neared his face to hers. _

_She didn't lean back this time since she already felt slightly comfortable with him and smiled. She nodded quite coyly._

"_That's amazing!" He said with glee, "Can you show me?"_

_Upon his request, she closed her palms together and once she opened them, a finely crafted piece of snowflake was formed. _

"_Whoa." He muttered, utterly amazed that a crystal snowflake appeared out of thin air. "You have a wonderful gift, young lady."_

_ "A gift…?" She questioned him, her smile regressing into a frown as the ice quickly thawed out. The temperature dropped as it rained with erratic snow. She meekly stared at her palms with eyes that looked disappointed rather than proud, "It's not a gift." She softly denied as the wind grew stronger by the passing second, "It's causing me troubles and it's burdensome to my family. It's more of a curse than a gift."_

_Jack saw her expression and sighed softly, "Anything can be a gift or a curse." He reasoned as he knelt in front of her so that she would meet his eyes, he didn't seem bothered by the snow or how it was starting to gather on the surface of his body. "What matters is the way you see it."_

"_It's not me." She sighed downheartedly as she avoided eye contact, "For a time I was happy with this. I get to amuse my sister and I would use it to make her happy, but then I noticed the fear stricken faces my parents would have whenever I do." A lone tear crystallized on her cold cheek, hardened like ice and then dropped like a piece of glass onto the frosted fabric of her dress, "I realized it's because of the riot it would cause. I'd be declared a witch or daughter of the devil—just imagine what would happen to my family if the people knew. We'd be kicked out, chased with torches and pitchforks and then stoned, if we're lucky, or burned at the stake, if we're unfortunate."_

_He wanted to open his mouth in protest and tell her that there's nothing wrong with her gift, especially if she was born with it, but—she was right. People in their era were annoyingly fearful of everything unknown or supernatural; they would not receive the news lightly—they would flip. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything, he brought out a handkerchief, the one that little girl gave him when he was still young and offered it to her, "Here." He said, lowering his voice to a husky tone in attempt to sound soothing, "It's a bit dirty and old, but… you can use that to wipe your tears."_

_She stared at the cloth and recognition dawned in her eyes as she mutely accepted his offer, "Thanks." She mumbled airily, her mind adrift to a certain memory lots of years back. Her tears had now stopped and she could only vaguely assume that they probably ran out, she had been crying ever since she came here, alternating between humming to help herself feel better and sobbing to let it all out._

_They lapsed into a pregnant silence, although it didn't take a while for it to be broken._

"_C-can I…" She hesitated as she nipped her lower lip, opting instead to wait for his response before she continued. Her hands gripped the cloth tightly as if doing so would help her ease whatever she was feeling inside._

_He shifted and crossed his legs, his bottom resting against the snow, before he discretely rubbed his shin to keep himself warm. "Hmm…?" He hummed._

"_Are you cold?" She asked with worry alit in her eyes as she stared at him._

_He raised both his brows before laughing, "Don't worry about me. I can take a little bit of cold." He waved his hand dismissively with a nonchalant grin, "What was it you wanted to say?"_

"_Can I keep this?"_

_He looked at her with an inquisitive stare, "That old thing?" He asked as his brows met._

_She nodded slowly. "I want to keep it as a memento of this night." She reasoned. That was true anyway. She wanted something to remind her of this meeting and she also found it quite interesting how they seemed to frequently bump into each other._

_Unbeknownst to him, she also recognized him as the boy who helped her find her way home._

_She watched as he scrunched his nose in mental debate before he let out a long sigh and gave her a gentle smile, "I suppose that's fine. I've held onto it far too long." Then his smiled turned nostalgic as he unconsciously expressed a look of fondness._

_It made her wonder, "If you put it that way…" She started, trailing off as her eyes flickered to and fro Jack and the lacy piece of cloth, unsure if she would sound nosy if she pressed the subject further. Why did he have that kind of look? Did she perhaps make a great impact in his life? If she did, what was it? She very young then, but she could vaguely recall squatting down the sidewalk after seeing a crying boy. She couldn't remember, however, what she said nor what she did. She was curious and she needed an answer. "Did this have some kind of special significance?"_

_He nodded. "It was given by a girl when I was still child." He said, which was briefly followed by a pause as he thought, wracking his brain for that one memory way, way back. "We were strangers… we still are, actually, and I've only seen her once." He admitted shyly, a tiny hint of amusement coating his words. It was as if he knew he was being silly and sentimental but he didn't care and, instead, found entertainment with himself. He abruptly stood, finally feeling the dampness and the cold biting his skin. "But she helped me a lot by just listening and even left me something to give me strength."_

_The garden was thawed by now and the grasses that were once crunched under the snow were now littered with random clusters of puddle to which were gradually drying up. The mist born from the coldness of the air still crept around their feet, curling and crawling in translucent little swirls as he took a seat. It was cold, but it didn't bother him. Earlier was way colder, but he was able to tolerate it._

_He then stared at her with a lopsided smile on his lips, "That's why I wanted to return the favor by doing my best in life. She saw me at my worst and comforted me when I was ready to give up and crumble under my responsibility. She was younger than me, that much I knew, but she was much wiser." He chuckled, the sides of his eyes crinkling with delight as he did so. Then he sighed, a happy contented sigh._

_She stared at him amused and…happy._

_He was like the manifestation of her childhood dream—to cause a wonderful change in someone's life._

_And she did it._

_For once, she became a blessing for someone—not a curse._

_Strangely, she felt contentment wash over her as her lips formed a small smile of their own._

"_She became my light in the dark." Jack nearly flushed at the mushiness of his words but he continued since he found it hard to contain his overflowing feelings of gratitude towards that little girl named Elsa. "And if ever I'll see her again, I will tell her how thankful I am for being my little ray of light. I owe her my entire life."_

_Back then, they both didn't know what fate had in store for them—because if they ever did, they would surely regret the day they met each other or the times they considered each other friends._

_And if Jack had known what he was to do… then he would have avoided applying under Lord Bastion._

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><p><strong>Alright~ That was a long read, your eyes must be tired. I'm sorry (_ _) I write that way.<strong>

**Before you, lovely reader, make a riot. Nope, it's not the end yet but this story is short so expect another long chapter next time. I'm not sure when I'll be able to update because currently? I haven't went past the first sentence. =_= I suck. I know.**

**I promise there's more to come and if you have any questions or violent reactions, feel free to state it in a review or a PM. I wouldn't mind answering them. It would actually mean the world to me. **

**Also, I have a favor. I know it's probably too much to ask but I have insecurity issues regarding my writing skills. I have goals, you see, and I really would want to know if I've reached them. I want to become better, so help me please?**

**1. What did you feel in each scenes?**

**2. Are Jack and Elsa's characters too OOC?**

** 3. What scene made you the most curious and why?**

**4. Did you enjoy it so far?**

**I really do hope I'm not asking much :S You don't have to answer all. ^^ Just... yeah... *clears throat***

**THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS~ (\(*w*)/)**

**Promise I'll show my appreciation in any way I can. ^^**

**Sincerely,**

**Rose **

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><p><em><strong>~May the fortress be with you~<strong>_


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